World Enough, & Time
by Seleya889
Summary: Episode tag to 9.07 "Devil's Triangle" Little did he anticipate the Op his second had been recruited for, or what that would mean to him personally. When he returned to the bullpen an hour later, Tony was gone… G/D slash
1. Chapter 1

_"You were my Shannon…" – Diane Sterling_

As the upstairs door quietly closed, followed by footsteps receding along the porch before disappearing into the yard beyond, Tony finally drifted back to the workbench from where he had secreted himself when Diane arrived. He held his cup loosely, finding mysteries in its depths as Gibbs contemplated his grandfather's watch. Not even Tony's insatiable curiosity could override the oppressive awkwardness of Diane's admission which hung in the air between them well after she left.

Resting the glass out of the way on the bench, Tony broke the silence. "I guess I should head out…"

Gibbs shook his head. "Pizza should be here any time." His eyes met Tony's briefly, a request hanging in the air. Thumbing the delicate etching on its case, he glanced down at the watch. Taking a deep breath, he explained, "This is the one thing she took that really mattered to me."

"It's beautiful," Tony readily agreed. Using the workbench as a buffer, he gauged Gibbs' mood.

The older man stood pensive before him. Lost in his own thoughts.

Fumbling for something to say, Tony broke the silence, "It looks old."

"Yeah. Family heirloom. It was my Grandfather's. My dad gave it to me when Shan and I got married." Gibbs smiled fondly as he remembered Shannon threatening to cut off her hair so she could get him a matching chain to go with it for Christmas their first year.

While Gibbs stood there reminiscing, Tony nodded respectfully as he quietly edged along the workbench, intending to give him some privacy. When the doorbell rang a moment later, Tony sprang for the stairs. "I'll get it."

Jethro stood in place, damning himself for reacting the way he had. For not moving on as soon as Diane had left. Later that night, he damned himself again for plying Tony with one too many beers for an excuse to get him to stay, and then dragging him to his bed rather than allowing him to take the couch like Tony had suggested, much to his dismay. He then damned himself for the way Tony was so formal – cautious – with him, even going so far as to respect the invisible line between them rather than engaging him in their usual playfulness which invariably led to lovemaking.

Taking the opportunity to spoon up behind his slumbering partner, Gibbs knew deep in his heart that he loved so much about Tony. The way he would call at random times just to check in with inane questions and ridiculous excuses just to speak with him. How he would send him a quick text when a movie he liked was on TV. How he would drop by with something for Gibbs' sweet tooth, and then just hang out while Jethro worked on the boat, often staying the night to the point that his apartment seemed like so much of an afterthought. And yet as much as Gibbs enjoyed their deepening relationship which was unlike anything he had had in over twenty years, he kept driving him off, pushing him back, and refusing to make the next move no matter what his gut told him.

Struggling to set those doubts aside, he burrowed into the warm body and breathed deeply, enjoying the clean, sandalwood scent of Tony's shampoo, which smelled like home and safety and love. And, he dreamed…

Gibbs' eyes slowly drifted open as he awoke, revealing the diffused glow of the early morning sun as it winnowed its way through the ice and snow encrusted window. With a sigh, he burrowed into the warmth at his side, slipping one arm around the delicate waist and drawing her closer. Shannon sleepily turned her head in question.

"Morning," he whispered, gracing her forehead with a chaste kiss before settling down tight beside her. Jethro buried his nose in her hair, reveling in being surrounded by her scent, her feel, her presence.

"Good morning," she smiled back at him. Her eyes danced fondly, as she stroked his hair away from his face. "Gibbs, why won't you let me go?"

"Go where?" he asked lightly, wondering what she had planned for the day. He contentedly snuggled into her, holding her tight, until stubble scratching across his cheek awoke him with a start.

His eyes snapped open to find Tony watching him, his brow furrowed in concern before patient understanding fell like a veil across his eyes. Gibbs looked away from the sorrow he saw reflected back at him. This happened every time he dreamt of Shannon and now, with the tone of the dreams changing, he couldn't immediately handle his lover's patience. With a muttered excuse, he sprang from the bed and made his escape to the bathroom.

Once there, he turned the shower as hot as he could get it and jumped in to pay his penance with scalding heat as he battled to pull himself together. Returning to his bedroom, he found Tony already dressed, with an uncertainty he hadn't seen since the early days of whatever they wanted to call their relationship. They went through their entire morning routine without a word, followed by a stop at Gibbs' favorite coffee shop, and then on to what promised to be a boring day at the Navy Yard.

With the dreams weighing heavy on his mind, Gibbs was short tempered with his team much of the morning, with Tony bearing the brunt of it. The more Tony ran interference for the rest of the team, the greater Gibbs frustration and anger grew.

When Tony was called up to one of the conference rooms halfway through the day, Gibbs hadn't thought twice about it. If he were honest with himself, it was a relief to not have to deal with Tony's willingness to take his admittedly unreasonable bastardity for a little while. As it was, he was halfway out of the bullpen to run down to check in with Ducky on a few details about a cold case they had inherited from one of the other teams as an excuse to escape his mood for a while. Little did he anticipate the Op his second had been recruited for, or what that would mean to him personally.

When he returned to the bullpen an hour later, Tony was gone…


	2. Chapter 2

The soft rasp of sandpaper calmed him as the wood offered up its mysteries. Warm golden tones and intricate whorls emerged with every sweep of the paper, every puff of air. Jethro lightly blew across the surface before sighting along the piece. He glided his fingers along the delicate length, pausing with a frown when he found what he was looking for. Changing grit, he followed the grain, smoothing ever so attentively.

The patience he showed towards the wood was not one he shared with the circumstances. There was too little he knew about the op Tony had found himself in with the Feebs; too much time without any information. Fornell wouldn't answer his calls. Vance had nothing to offer and Abby and Tim's strange computer magic had produced only the barest of worrying information. Ghosting his fingertip over the troublesome spot, Gibbs paired the wood up with its mates, trying not to think too much about the way it slotted so perfectly with the others.

Wind blew hard against the house, making the windows creak in their sashes. The snow fell silently, reflecting the street lights as it dove for the earth. Jethro wondered if Tony was keeping warm tonight. The younger man had been more sensitive to the cold since his bout with the plague and Gibbs couldn't help but worry about his scarred lungs with the biting cold. He knew Tony hadn't brought his heavy winter coat, not even his Ohio State letterman jacket was missing from his closet and the thick hoodie he kept at Gibbs' was still hanging on the peg where he had left it.

Tony had been gone for nearly three weeks, without as much as a phone call. Jethro knew he had to be in deep, and yearned for even so much as a text, an off color joke at midnight, or even for someone to flush the damn toilet while he was in the shower only to silence his indignant protests with a willing mouth, a seeking tongue, and very talented wandering hands.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he double-checked the charge, then frowned with a squint at the display which showed no new messages. Plunging the phone back into his pocket to resist throwing his best means of hearing from Tony as soon as possible across the room, he grabbed his jar of Jack with his free hand and tossed it back, breathing out his frustration through the burn in his throat.

Jethro wasn't accustomed to being the one left behind to worry. He hated the uncertainty, especially considering he had no idea who or what Tony was doing, but, if the FBI brought him in specifically, he knew it had to be especially dangerous. Why else would they go outside their own, much larger agency?

He thought about all of those times he had been gone, himself, especially when he was with Shannon. The deployments, the Black Ops, the training exercises, any of which could have gone wrong. He remembered all of those times Shan had put on a brave face and kissed him goodbye, watching and waving the entire time he drove away, and then how she had greeted him upon his return as if she had thought she would never see him again. He'd taken for granted that they had the rest of their lives to share with each other, only to be proven horribly wrong.

And yet, and yet, he was, once again, taking someone he cared for so deeply for granted, he suddenly realized. For all he knew, his last memories of Tony would be of him hesitantly standing by his dresser when he came out of the shower, angry at the world, and impatient with his lover's patience as well as his own refusal to do something about it. His three other marriages dissolved because he wouldn't or couldn't commit.

Couldn't let go.

 _"If you always do what you always did, you will always get what you always got,"_ echoed in his head, as a resolve to change the circumstances began to grow within him.

Now, if only Tony would come home…


End file.
